


Evasion

by dandelionway



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, First Gay Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay, Gay Sex, Housemates, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn, Protected Sex, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Smut, human!Cas, human!dean, mentions of anorexia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionway/pseuds/dandelionway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester moves into Castiel Novak's home, an openly gay stranger who is in search of a housemate. Both men find an almost instant friendship, and learn about each other and themselves. Dean has buried his past and pain six feet under, and yet he is still able to comfort Castiel through his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean sat in his Chevy Impala, tapping the leather steering wheel once, twice, three times. He was parked outside of a medium-sized house, not too small or shabby but nothing grand or fancy. It wasn’t often that Dean was nervous. He didn’t think he would be when he saw the ad on craigslist from some guy who was also looking for a housemate. But now he was, because he realized this was the first time he would live without his little brother Sam, who had gone to college all the way in California. Dean was nervous because moving in with a stranger is ridiculous. Moving in with a stranger meant everything was unfamiliar; they had to work out some sort of routine, have different sides of the fridge, and take turns buying groceries and toilet paper. And the worst part, what about when they brought girls home? It would all just be too awkward.

Dean opened his car door and stepped out, shaking his head. It was just an interview, he didn’t even know if he would actually live here. And he had to do this—he was too broke to live on his own, and he definitely couldn’t move back in with his parents.

Dean barely had time to knock on the door before it swung open, revealing a man who was a couple inches shorter than him, had very blue eyes, was smiling and, oddly enough, wearing a light brown trench coat that looked slightly big on him. Seeing the look on Dean’s face, the man said, “Oh, I saw you parked out front for a while, and then sort of, um, watched you walk up.” He looked a little embarrassed about having watched him. “Nice car, by the way.”

“Thanks.” One point for trench coat guy. “I’m Dean by the way.”

“Castiel.” They shook hands. Dean almost commented on his strange name, but decided against it, figuring it would be rude. He followed Castiel into the living room, looking at his surroundings as he did so. It was pretty nice, though there wasn’t many evidence that Castiel had been living here for very long. It looked like he had just moved in from the lack of personal items, though there weren’t any boxes lying around that would’ve had more stuff. Maybe the guy just didn’t like clutter.  
Castiel showed Dean to a cream colored couch, motioning for him to sit down, and then headed over to the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by an island counter.

“You want a beer?”

“Um, sure, thanks.” Castiel came back to the living room with a beer in one hand and a bottle of apple juice in the other. It struck Dean as weird that a grown man would drink apple juice, but then he couldn’t think of why.

“So, Dean. Um, I guess I’ll just ask you some questions. You’re actually the only one who has contacted me, and the ad has been up for months, so you can stay here if you aren’t a psychotic serial killer.” Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled slightly. He asked Dean some basic questions, like why he wanted to live with someone else, what did he do for a living, and, jokingly, if he had murdered anyone in his lifetime. They sat talking for a while, telling each other about themselves. Dean told Cas (as he had soon started calling him) about how Sam had gone to college for engineering. He talked about his brother as proudly as if he was his own son, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile a little at how Dean’s eyes instantly lit up when he talked about him.

Dean learned that Cas was a college professor, teaching religious studies. Cas began to show him around the house, showing him the kitchen and where everything was, the bathrooms, and finally his own potential room. Dean also told him that his mom and dad had died in a plane crash thirteen years earlier, when he was eleven, and how he and Sammy had gone to live with their aunt. This led Cas to tell him that his mother was diagnosed with cancer a year ago. The abrupt change in atmosphere weighed down on them both in their empathy, and they sat in silence for a little bit. Cas suddenly cleared his throat.

“Well, I think you’re suitable enough to live with me, Dean,” he said smiling. “I guess we’ll talk later?”

Dean nodded, standing up from the couch. “Yeah, I’ll call you or something. Thanks, man.” Castiel’s smile grew slightly.

“Of course. Oh, and Dean? I thought you should know, just in case it’s a problem…I’m gay. Openly. I don’t know if that would be weird for you.” Dean hesitated. Would it be weird? Probably. He wasn’t homophobic, but…no. He mentally shook his head as he thought this. He didn’t have a problem with gays, so yes, he would move in with Cas.

“Nah, I don’t care,” he said, waving his hand as if to solidify that statement. This is good, Dean thought. I have a house now.

Since Dean didn’t have a place to stay at yet, he had been spending his days alternating between a bar and a diner, which he used for both their food and wifi, which was how he found Cas’ ad in the first place. He also used it for job searching, which he’d had no luck in so far. At night he slept in the Impala; he didn’t see the point of staying at a hotel and spending money he didn’t have. Sam didn’t know this of course.

* * *

The next day, after talking on the phone with Sam and assuring him that yes, he had finally found somewhere to stay and yeah, he’ll keep looking for jobs, he called Castiel.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cas, it’s Dean.”

“Dean! Hi. How are you?”

“I’m pretty good. Are you busy?”

“No, no I’m on my lunch break right now.”

“Oh cool, well um…would it be okay if I started moving in today? I can wait until you get off of work.” Dean felt weird asking, especially since it had only been a day since they’d met. Damnit, Dean, you couldn’t have waited a couple days? Talk about being overeager.

“Yeah, sure!” Why is this guy so happy all the time? “I get off work at five, I’ll be there around five-thirty.”

“All right, thanks man, I appreciate it,” Dean said, and it was true. He was so glad he finally had a place to stay, a bed to sleep in.

“No problem, Dean. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

“Is that all you have?” Cas asked Dean as he stood in the doorway with only a duffle bag in his hand.

“Um, yeah. I don’t have much.”

“Yeah, me neither. Well, come in.” It felt awkward to Dean, coming into a stranger’s home with all of his belongings. He figured it was probably awkward for Cas as well. They walked upstairs to Dean’s room, Cas leading the way since Dean couldn’t remember which door it was.

“So I’ll leave you to get situated.” Situated? What is this guy, an old woman? “We can talk about dinner later.” Dean suddenly felt like he was a kid at a relative’s house without his parents. He nodded at Cas, thanking him once again.

About half an hour later, twenty minutes of it spent taking a nap, Dean came downstairs to find Castiel sleeping on the couch, his arm hanging off lazily and some educational shark show playing on the TV. Dean made his way into the kitchen and looked through the cabinets, familiarizing himself with everything. He got out some bowtie noodles, a jar of tomato sauce, and an assortment of spices and herbs. Dean liked cooking, though he didn’t usually like sharing this particular piece of information with people. Sam was the only one who really knew, even if Dean hadn’t actually said it out loud. It was obvious by the way he acted in the kitchen; humming to some old rock song, completely absorbed in what he was doing and an utterly pleasant, worry-free expression on his face.

Two plates of spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread had been sitting on the table for about thirty seconds before Dean saw Castiel get up from the couch. He was stretching his arms up over his head, his eyes closed and his shirt was riding up, exposing skin and almost his belly button. He opened his eyes and sniffed, a curious look on his face. He walked into the kitchen, and his face instantly turned surprised when he saw the food and Dean, who was smiling shyly.

“Did you make this, Dean?”

“No, I ordered it from Olive Garden and threw away the evidence,” Dean said sarcastically, and Cas laughed. “Nah I just wanted to do this as a sort of thank you. For letting me live here, I mean.”

“Wow, Dean, this is great. Thank you, too.”

“Well don’t thank me yet, you haven’t tried it! You never know, I could have poisoned it.” Cas hesitated, looking scared. “God, Cas, I was kidding!” Now Dean laughed, and Cas joined in, nervously at first. They sat down and Dean watched Cas intently as he took his first bite, relief spreading through him when it was apparent he liked the food.

“This…this is very good. So good. I didn’t even know spaghetti could taste this amazing. What did you put in here? Jesus?” Dean smiled down at his hands in his lap.

When both men had finished their food, Cas leaned back in his chair contently. “So. Where’d you learn to cook like that?

Dean shrugged. “I’ve pretty much always cooked for Sammy because our aunt was a drunk and when our parents were alive, they were always at work. At first I hated it, because I just thought of it as another chore. But then…I don’t know. I like how there’s a recipe, a guideline, but I don’t necessarily have to follow it. I can add and take away, and experiment and create.” Dean looked embarrassed suddenly, realizing he had told Cas something he’d never actually admitted. Cas was smiling slightly at Dean, his head tilted to one side as if trying to decipher him.

Dean managed to get over himself as they both got up, bringing their plates and silverware to the sink. Cas began washing the dishes with a bright blue sponge, almost as blue as his eyes. Dean stood beside him and rinsed the dishes off and put them in the drying rack when Cas had finished.

“What about you, Cas? Got any hidden talents?”

Cas thought for a moment. “Well…I play the piano. And…” It was Cas’ turn to look embarrassed, and Dean noticed the slight blush that rose to his cheeks. “And, I sing.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “My, my, my, Cas, I guess you’ll have to write me a song someday.” His eyes widened, realizing he sounded as if he was flirting with Cas. He didn’t want him to get the wrong idea…

But Castiel seemed unaware of the mistake, because he was laughing and nodding; his blush still remained. The laughter died down and they were silent for a while, each of them staring into space, deep in their own thoughts. Dean yawned, and then cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said, standing up. “I’m gonna head up, maybe call Sam.” Cas nodded.

“Yeah, okay. I should probably finish grading some papers anyways. Thanks for dinner again by the way! If you couldn’t tell, I really liked it. A lot.”

Dean smiled. “My pleasure.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days consisted of Castiel and Dean lived in pretty much the same manner as the first day; respectful and too polite, saying “thank you” and “sorry” an unnecessary amount of times. They hadn’t had too many conversations, mostly staying to themselves. While Cas was at work, Dean was exploring more of the town, cruising around in his car that he couldn’t seem to get enough of. He went to different diners, mostly, where he could just order a water (since he didn’t have money for anything else) and search jobs on his phone, while partially listening to his surroundings.

After a couple days, however, his phone stopped having service, and he had no money to pay it. Reluctantly, he headed to the library to use their computers, knowing he had to find a job in order to pay rent and, well, live. Dean hated libraries. They were too quiet, he was too loud, and he hated being forced to be quiet. It was like if he did or said anything loudly he would be shunned by the librarians and library-goers and looked down upon as an undesirable in the nerd world.

Dean parked the Impala in the nearest space he could find to the library door, and grunted to himself as he walked across the parking lot. The breeze prickled the skin on his bare arms, a warm breeze, the kind you want to let carry you away as you close your eyes. Inside, the library was quiet. What a surprise. The computers were in separate section of the library completely, boxed off as if in mini offices. Gray. Everything looked gray. It was depressing. Why did people like libraries so much?

Dean had been sitting in the gray chair with the gray walls around him for what seemed like forever. He was pretty sure he had been staring at the same sentence for over three minutes. His head was propped up by his hand, and his eyes drooped before blinking back open. This happened repeatedly until Dean heard his name.

“Dean? Hey, Dean!” He turned around. “Oh, hi Castiel…” He looked at the other man, his mind still groggy from his off and on five second naps. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Cas was walking closer to Dean by this point.

“It’s my lunch break.”

“You go to the library for your lunch breaks?” Dean almost snorted.

“Yeah, I like it here. Nice and quiet. And books. I really like books. What about you? Why are you here? You didn’t strike me as the book loving type.”

Dean put his fingers to his temples, massaging both sides, remembering why he was here in the first place. “Job hunting. Fun fun.” Sarcasm is thick like glue. Cas seemed to think for a moment, and then his eyes grew wide like he had a literal light bulb moment in his brain.

“Dean!” His exclamation was enthusiastic despite the fact that it was a sort of stage-whisper.“They’re hiring here! At the library! I don’t know what kind of experience you have, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t even matter. As long as you know how to alphabetize.” He looked so proud of himself, like he solved all of Dean’s problems. Dean was about to say no, no definitely not, because working at a library? That’s like the epitome of boring jobs. But then he stopped himself because really, it was either work here or be broke forever and eventually have to live on the street and eat rat eyeballs. And he was almost certain he’d rather work at the library than have to eat rat eyeballs.

“Wow, um, yeah. That’d be…cool. Yeah, cool. Thanks Cas. I’ll just go, uh—“ But Cas was already pulling Dean by his wrist to the front desk, and then he was asking for the application papers, and then before Dean knew it he was sitting in his impala alone, a pen in one hand and half of the application already filled out.

Well, this was a start.

* * *

It was around seven o’clock, Cas had been home for a while, and Dean was in the kitchen finishing dinner. The two men sometimes took turns cooking for the both of them, sometimes just heating up cheap frozen food for themselves. Dean was making steak and roasted tomatoes that had parsley and thyme sprinkled over them. It took a while to get the tomatoes exactly how he wanted them, but eventually they turned out to be pretty decent. He knocked the top of the broom on the ceiling that was under Castiel’s room, their alternative way of calling each other since they usually couldn’t hear if they yelled. Dean was balancing the two plates of food on each of his hands with slight difficulty, when Cas turned around the wall that jutted out from the kitchen as it dissolved into the living room, colliding with Dean, causing the dishes to tumble out of his hands. The landed with a crash on the floor, and both men winced as they heard the shatter of porcelain. They both stared down at the damage, a look of horror splayed over Cas’ face.

“Oh my God.”

“Um, it’s okay,” Dean said, and he was about to say something else about how it was completely fine, but he couldn't think of anything.

“No, like I’m really sorry. This must have taken you forever!”

“Nah, it’s fine dude. There’s still some tomatoes on the stove…we could order a pizza or something! That was the last of the steak, though.”

Cas looked embarrassed. “I should probably tell you…I’m actually a vegetarian.”

Dean looked at him. “You did this on purpose!” The other man looked startled for a second, but then saw that Dean was smiling and laughed. The dishes and food were still lying in a mess on the floor, and neither of the men had moved. Finally though, the mess was cleaned and the pizza was called, and Cas suggested they find a movie to watch on TV.

Dean put on Dracula while Cas went back to his room to change into pajamas. He came back into the room a minute later with pictures of Spock’s face from Star Trek all over his pants, and Dean stared at them incredulously, wondering whether to laugh or cry.

“Cas, what the hell are you wearing?”

Cas looked down at his pants, frowning. “Spock. I’m wearing Spock.”

“Well it’s fucking creepy,” Dean said laughing. Cas stuck his tongue out at him, and then walked over to the couch and sat as far away from Dean as he could.

“Aww, have I hurt your feelings?” Cas turned his head even more, and stuck his chin up slightly. Then he saw Dracula playing on the TV and his eyes suddenly lit up, apparently forgetting to keep playing upset.

“I love this movie.” Dean looked over at him, eyebrows raised, before turning his attention back to the TV, turning the volume up much to Cas’ delight. They spent the rest of the night eating pizza and watching classic monster movies, except they ended up talking over most of them, learning more about each other since they still felt somewhat like strangers. Frankenstein was playing when Cas fell asleep, his head lying against the armrest and his toes lightly brushing Dean’s thigh. He almost woke him up to tell him to go to his room, but decided against it.

Dean picked both of their plates up, dropping them in the sink to be washed the next day.

* * *

Cas came home after his work the next afternoon to Dean lying on the floor on his back with one arm draped over his eyes.

“Dean, why are you on the floor.” It sounded more like a scold than a question.

“Nothing. Just thinking. I like to think when—“

“We’re going to a bar. C’mon, let’s go now.”

Dean took his arm from his face, sitting up and staring confusedly at his housemate. “Cas, I’ve only ever seen you drink apple juice.”

He rolled his eyes at Dean, and then took his coat off the coatrack and threw it at him, jangling his keys as if it would make him hurry up.

“Fine,” Dean said, putting on his coat lazily. “But we’re taking my car. Yours smells weird.”

“It’s pine, Dean. Everyone likes pine.”

“Nobody likes your pine tree nature shit, Cas.” Cas rolled his eyes again, adjusting his trench coat on his shoulders. They headed out to the car, Dean still wondering why Cas suddenly had an interest in normal things, like alcohol.

The bar was smaller than the one Dean used to go to (back when he had money), and there weren’t many people, seeing as it was only about five in the evening. It was dim and a little smoky, which gave the place an almost dusty look. Dean originally had refused Cas’ offer to buy him a drink, but Cas insisted, so he sighed and agreed on a beer. Castiel, the trench coat baby who drinks apple juice like his life depended on it, ordered six shots of straight whiskey. Dean decided not to question it. They talked a bit, about Cas’ teaching and when Dean was going to start work. Dean found that he liked listening to Cas talk about his different methods of teaching, and how his students reacted to all the new weird stuff they would do. He sounded so…passionate about it all. Dean hoped that someday he could find a career that he liked as much as his new friend liked his. And Cas drank, and he drank. Dean just sipped on his beer, and didn’t order anything after he had finished. It wasn’t like him, but he didn’t want to drive Cas home drunk. And he wouldn’t dare get a taxi and leave his precious car at some bar.

Soon, Castiel’s words kept slurring together, and then he wasn’t making sense at all, just rambling about nothing. After a while, Cas seemed to get bored of Dean, and he wondered over to the other side of the bar, next to a brown haired guy with a tattoo on his neck and an eyebrow ring. They talked for a few seconds, both of them looking bored, before Cas grabbed the stranger’s face and smashed his mouth against his.

 _That was unexpected_ , Dean thought to himself.

The other guy squirmed, his eyes wide open, and pushed Cas away. Even from where Dean was sitting, he could hear the guy shout, “Dude, I’m not gay!” Cas looked at him blankly.

“Well, you know what? Fuck you, that’s what.” Dean laughed as he got up and walked to Cas, grabbing his wrist and leading him out of the bar. Cas stumbled as they walked.

“I didn’t know you could be so badass, Cas,” Dean said, still chuckling.

He looked up at Dean, squinting. “Cas…Ass. Ass Cas. Ha. Rhymes.”

“All right, we’re getting you home.” By now, Cas had his arm slung over Dean’s shoulder for support. Dean helped him into the car with some difficulty; he was a bit heavier than he looked. Getting up the stairs was the real hard part, thought. Cas kept stopping to close his eyes and slump against Dean. When the two got the doorway of Cas’ room, he turned to face Dean, and tears were in his eyes very suddenly.

“I don’t want her to die,” he whispered. Dean, realizing he’s probably talking about his mother who has cancer, wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders. The hug was new for Dean. The only person he was used to hugging was Sammy, and he was a lot larger than Dean so he always felt enveloped. Now, with Cas, he felt like a mold, like he and Cas had melted into each other. Then Cas dropped his arms, walked over to his bed and plopped facedown. Dean walked to his own room after looking back at his housemate once more. He stripped his clothes off and let them fall to the floor. He was too tired to put them away and too tired to put sweats on so he climbed into his bed with only his boxers on. Hugging his knees to his chest, he tried to understand what Cas was going through. Sure, Dean’s parents had already died, but it had happened so long ago that the grief was faded. Soon, Cas’ pain would be new and vivid, just like Dean’s was at first, and he almost cringed. He didn’t want Cas to have to go through what he did. He wanted to console Cas, be there for him. But they had just met hardly a month ago…he still felt like they didn’t know each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke up to the strong smell of bacon and burnt eggs from the kitchen. He changed into sweats quickly (it was Saturday, and there was no way in hell he was going to wear jeans) and then headed down the stairs and to the kitchen. Cas was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands and pieces of burnt egg scattered around him. Dean walked to the stove, turning the burners off before the bacon could also burn, and crouched by Cas, awkwardly putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Cas?” Castiel looked up at Dean, his eyes puffy and rimmed with red. Dean wondered if that was from last night or just now.

“Cas, get up. We’re going to the couch.” He obeyed, standing up and grabbing Dean’s elbow to steady himself. They went to the couch slowly, sitting down to face each other when they got there. Dean was never good at comforting people and he knew that, but he also knew he had to try. It didn’t seem like Cas had anyone else to talk to.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, obviously something is wrong, because you’re a vegetarian and you were just attempting to make bacon.” The other man sighed.

“I just wanted to make it for you for, you know. Last night and all.” Dean’s eyes softened, a ‘thank you’ in its own.

Cas started to get up. “Speaking of which, I have to go finish it. So if you would just let me—“ Dean grabbed his shoulders and forced him back on the couch.

“No, Cas. We need to talk about this. You’re hurting, and you need someone to talk to. You can talk to me.” Dean had no idea where this was coming from, or where he was going with it. Cas sighed again.

“It’s nothing, Dean. This isn’t out of the ordinary, okay? My mother is dying. I’m allowed to be upset.” Dean felt a little hurt at the annoyance in his voice, but brushed it away as he continued.

“She’s going to die soon. I don’t want to hide away my grief, because that’s like I’m forgetting her, or I don’t care, and I don’t want that to happen. Okay?”

Dean nodded, looking down at his hands in his lap. Cas placed his hand on top of Dean’s, and then took it away as if deciding against it. They looked at each other for what seemed like seconds or days or centuries when Cas’ eyes started to droop and he yawned. Dean got up and nudged at Cas to lay down on the couch. He put a blanket over his housemate, and he fell asleep almost instantly. Dean went to clean up the mess in the kitchen, eating the unharmed bacon, and when Cas woke up both men pretended the previous events of the morning hadn’t happened.

* * *

As the weeks went by, Dean and Cas found themselves in even more of a routine than they were in before. Dean started working at the library full-time, despising every second of it but thankful of the checks every week. Cas kept on teaching his students, constantly bringing stories home to Dean that he would tell with smiling eyes. They still made food for each other; mostly Dean though because he was better at it and enjoyed it a lot more. He started making meals with meat substitutes like tofu and soybeans. At first he thought it was ridiculous and couldn’t bring himself to even taste it, but then found himself inspired by a barbeque tofu dish Cas had practically forced down his throat at a Thai food restaurant. He still craved a real hamburger every once in while though, which he got during his lunch breaks at his favorite diner.

Somewhere along the way, though they couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when they decided this, Friday night had become their movie and takeout night. They alternated between the various restaurants in town, ordering a bunch of food that would last them for the next couple of days. Then they would pop in library movies one after another until they fell asleep, Dean’s head resting on his hand that was propped up on the armrest of the couch and Cas’ feet poking at his hip as he curled on his side. It was uncomfortable for both of them (especially Dean) but nonetheless it was how they almost always drifted off. Later on in the night one of them would wake up and push the other off the couch to wake them, then they would stumble up the stairs to their own rooms, food forgotten until the morning.

Dean woke up one morning after one of their Friday night adventures, his limbs and brain and eyes still half asleep. He looked at his clock: 7:42. _Oh, hell no_ , Dean thought to himself grumpily. He was not going to wake up this early on a Saturday morning. However, he had to pee really, really bad. Which was probably the reason he woke up in the first place.

Cursing, Dean all but fell out of bed, nearly walking into his door on the way out. He opened the bathroom door to find Castiel leaning with his arm in the shower to turn it on. Naked. His backside was facing Dean, who froze, staring with his eyes wide. Cas spun around to face him and Dean wished he hadn’t because his eyes flickered south, which Cas saw. Dean scrambled out with a half-attempt at shutting the door, and ran out to the Impala.

He was still slightly in shock from the whole situation as he drove around the block multiple times. He parked in front of the neighborhood pool, which was closed because it was near the end of autumn. He slowly took deep breaths, as if trying to somehow rid himself of the embarrassment. It’s not as if he had never seen another guy’s junk before. He had been in a high school gym locker room plenty of times, and obviously there were naked guys. Not to mention it was pretty difficult to watch porn and not see a dick. He wondered if this was because Cas was gay? Did that make it extra awkward? He sat there for a while longer, contemplating before he finally settled on that explanation. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal about this. Dean knew he couldn’t hide away forever. They did live in the same house, after all.

After one more deep breath and a mental shake, Dean started up his car and drove back to the house. When he opened the door he stood face to face with Cas, who was holding his car keys in one hand and his trench coat in the other.

“Oh! Dean. I was just going to look for you.” Dean didn’t know what to think of that. Where would he look? Maybe the library, though that would never be considered a “hang out” place for him. Maybe his favorite diner, or the bar he always goes to. Dean realized that he had found his personal spots in this new town that he lived in, and that Castiel was the only one who knew of them.

“Oh, yeah. I just needed to…anyways. You wanna go inside? I can make breakfast or something, I’m getting hungry. Are you getting hungry? I was thinking pancakes, we haven’t had those yet have we? Do you want pancakes?” Cas chuckled quietly, leading the way inside.

“Dean, stop rambling. We don’t need to make this anymore awkward than it already is, do we?” Dean shook his head. “All right, then,” Cas said as the two men entered the kitchen.

“Let’s make some pancakes.”

They quickly realized they didn’t have any pancake batter, hence why they had never made pancakes, so they hopped in the car on a quest to the grocery store. They rode in the impala as usual, since Dean refused to ride in Cas’ car unless he absolutely had to. Dean turned the radio on and rolled down the windows, letting one arm hang out and feel the cool wind resisting as they drove. He sang along to the music and Cas smiled at how horrible he sounded, which neither of them minded. Eventually Cas started singing along as well, quietly though, so Dean could hardly hear him. Dean could faintly hear him, however, and he lowered his own voice slightly so he could hear Cas’ better. When the car stopped, Dean sat back in his chair and looked at Cas. Castiel saw him staring and laughed nervously.

“What?” Dean smiled. “You have a nice voice.” Cas rolled his eyes, but Dean could see a blush rising to his cheeks.

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do! You should be on that singing show, American Idol?” This time Cas laughed fully, his head thrown back. He didn’t answer Dean, instead getting out of the car and shutting the door. Dean did the same, and they walked together into the store. This was the first time they would be grocery shopping together—they usually took turns. It was weird, and Dean wondered if people thought they were dating. It made him feel a little self-conscious, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Dean grabbed some pancake batter, but when he turned around he and Cas were looking at each other: Cas was holding a different brand of batter.

“I will fight you for this, Dean.”

“Well that makes two of us, _Castiel_.” They glared at each other for several seconds before scrambling to put their box in the shopping cart, racing to get there first and pushing each other out of the way as they did so. Coincidentally, they arrived at the same time.

“All right, I think I have a solution,” Cas said, clasping his hands together. “This is going to sound crazy. I don’t know, I might have lost my mind. But here it is: we get both batters, and mix them. Yeah?”

Dean stared at him blankly. “You are a madman.” Cas nodded, as if accepting that statement.

They then went through the store with both of their batters. They came out with the batters, whipped cream, strawberries, blueberries, chocolate syrup, lemon juice, and chocolate chips. Dean wasn’t exactly sure what the lemon juice was for, but Cas just kept saying “you’ll see”.

When they got home, Cas put on a CD by Bright Eyes, which Dean thought he would hate but he ended up really liking them. Dean did most of the preparing of the ingredients, Cas claiming that he only wanted to put the chocolate chips in and flip the pancakes. It turned out that he was horrible at flipping pancakes—they kept folding in on themselves and Dean would playfully yell at him. This made Cas scrunch his face up and produce some noise of frustration, which amused Dean to the point where he was doubling over with laughter. Dean finally took over with the flipping, and Cas leaned with his back on the counter as he watched Dean and sang along to the music. Dean was quiet, just listening to his friend beside him. Cas’ voice was smooth and rough at the same time; he glided over the notes effortlessly and yet with a raspy edge. Dean wanted to close his eyes and just let his voice wash over him. He wanted to sway to the beat and float in the air.

The pancakes were finally finished and Cas told Dean to go sit on the couch and not to look over to the kitchen. Dean didn’t even question, he just did as he was told. Castiel came back about a minute later with two plates in his hands. On one plate there was a pancake with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and fruit on it, and on the other plate was a pancake and on it was what looked like…sugar? Cas placed the regular looking pancake on the floor in front of the couch and handed Dean the other one, along with a fork.

“Did you put sugar on my pancake?”

“It’s lemon juice and sugar,” Cas said, staring at him intently, waiting for him to take a bite. “This is what Australians do.”

“This is fucking weird.”

“Just try it, Dean. It’s really good.”

Dean took a bite hesitantly, and then his face instantly brightened. “This is fucking amazing.”

Cas smiled and ran to the kitchen to get his own two plates of pancakes. He explained that he always ate at least one pancake with lemon juice and sugar ever since he tried it when he went to Australia for a summer when he was in high school. When they finished they laid their heads back on the couch, melting into the music. Cas looked over at Dean, who had his eyes closed.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Mmm?”

“Thank you,” Castiel whispered. At first he thought he didn’t hear him, but then he felt Dean’s fingers enclose around his wrist lightly, so lightly he could hardly feel them. His hand dropped almost as soon as it had come.


	4. Chapter 4

 “Hello?” Castiel’s gravelly voice sounded through the apartment, and Dean listened from his spot in front of the stove; the house was filled with a comfortable quiet, so it was pretty hard to not hear. He was making chicken parmesan for dinner, which Cas had claimed was his favorite after Dean had made it for him a couple weeks earlier.

“Gabriel, calm down. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Dean faintly remembered Cas talking about a Gabriel once. A cousin? No, brother. Yes, that’s what it was. He had said they weren’t close anymore, had a fallout after their mother had gotten sick. “What do you mean?” Dean heard Cas’ voice crack. He was silent for a while, and then his breath hitched in his throat; “Why, Gabriel?” His voice was nearly a whisper now, pleading. “Why is this happening? I’m coming there, now. If you don’t want to see me, fine. But I have to see mom and I have to see…I’m coming.”

Dean came out of the kitchen to see Castiel clutching the phone in one hand and rubbing his temple with the other. “Cas? You all right?” Castiel turned to face Dean. He looked tired and much older. He almost seemed to be reaching out to Dean with his eyes, asking for help in his quiet and reserved way.

“Yes, everything is fine.” He started to make his way toward the stairs but his body jerked, and then he was standing there, hunched over and shaking, trying to cry silently. Dean automatically went to Cas, as if he had spent years comforting him. He gently put his hand on Cas’ back, leading him up the stairs to his room. Together they walked to Cas’ large bed. His blankets were bunched around the middle and Dean hastily spread them out and pulled them back. He patted the bed so Cas would lay down. Still partially holding his breath so as to not make noise, Cas laid down on his side and curled up. Dean pulled the blanket over him, and then sat on the other side of the bed, on top of the blanket. Castiel’s back was turned to him, and Dean stared sympathetically at his hair; it was growing out slightly, just enough that it was splayed across the pillow, small black streaks contrasting with the white cotton.

Dean wondered selfishly how often he would have to do this—take care of Cas. It occurred to him that it was somewhat of a burden, but then he also realized that he did not necessarily mind. He was so used to taking care of Sammy when he was younger because his aunt was always at work—when he moved out, Dean found it difficult to not have the responsibility of someone else. Consoling Cas seemed to be the next best thing. Dean watched the back of Cas’ shoulders rise and fall, the pace slowing as he drifted into unconsciousness. The room was quiet, and Dean liked how he could hear his and Cas’ breathing mix together. It was odd and unfamiliar for Dean, this friendship. Although he was generally pretty well liked in high school and the one year of college that he attended, he had never made any friends that cared about him or that he cared about. It was nice to have someone other than Sam to actually like him.

* * *

Dean woke up to find his nose buried in Castiel’s hair. It tickled slightly. Dean’s arm was slung around Cas’ waist, fingers lightly brushing his shirt. Cas’ back was still facing him. The blankets were pushed to the end of the bed.

They were spooning.

Dean was fucking spooning another man.

He made to get up, but his sudden movement caused Cas to roll around to face him, his arm wrapping itself heavily over Dean’s torso. His leg also came to hook itself around Dean’s knee. He had simultaneous thoughts of this being adorable, awkward, and uncomfortable. And he couldn’t move.

Cas’ eyes started to open, and Dean made the split-second decision to pretend like he was sleeping, his panic response in hoping that it would make this situation a little less awkward. He gave it a few seconds for Cas to comprehend what had happened, and then slowly opened his eyes as if he was just waking up. Cas’ eyes were half-lidded and dazed, in the precious in between state of sleeping and awake.

And then the most unexpected or the most expected thing happened. Dean leaned forward, touching his lips to Castiel’s. The kiss was too soft and too chaste, and it was over almost instantly. Dean very suddenly felt panicked and calm, confused and clarity, frustrated yet happy…he felt whole. These emotions seemed to present themselves in his eyes, which were blown wide, staring at Castiel.

The two attempted to hide their embarrassed blushes as they untangled their limbs and abandoned the white linen. Dean was shrinking in on himself—or rather, he was trying to—as he stood stiffly by the bed, looking anywhere but at Castiel, who was almost mirroring his actions.

“Well, um.” Dean was surprised at the sound of his own voice, as he was not expecting to talk. He also had no idea what he was going to say. Castiel looked at him, his expression unreadable.

“Dean…” Castiel hesitated, as though deciding what he was going to say, but making it clear that he intended to speak first. _Oh, fuck_ , Dean thought. _I cannot deal with all this feely emotion shit right_ _now_.

“Dean,” Cas began again, his tone strangely formal. “I am sorry for last night. I had received some unfortunate news regarding my brother.” He walked to the door of his room, gesturing for Dean to follow, which he did. They stood facing each other, too close, and when Cas talked Dean could feel his warm breath blow over his face.

“I am going to California tonight to see my family, one brother in particular, as the rest are never really thrilled to see me.” Dean realized then how little he actually knew of Castiel—he hadn’t even known he had another brother. Dean nodded, though he didn’t know what for, and he found himself staring at Cas’ lips. It was an odd and unfamiliar thing for him, to be looking at another man’s mouth. It struck him as that way, however he did not stop. He knew that Cas saw him, and he took that moment to look back up. Cas’ voice came out in a whisper, soft enough that Dean wondered if he was meant to hear.

“You can come with me, if you want.”

Dean stared, trying to think of what to say. “I have work,” was all he could come up with. Castiel shrugged. “You haven’t taken time off yet. Come with me, Dean. I don’t want to face my family alone.” He scratched his neck, waiting for Dean’s answer. And then:

“They live close to Stanford, about an hour away. You could see Sam.”

And that was that. The two men spent the rest of the day staying in their own rooms, keeping themselves busy as they didn’t want to revisit the uncharted territory they had stepped in. Dean had already packed—it didn’t take long since the trip was only for a week. Castiel still hadn’t told him what had happened to his brother, and Dean didn’t ask. He figured it was a touchy subject.

***

The plane ride from the east to west coast was quiet and uneventful, as most plane rides are. Dean slept a couple times, but never for very long, and he suspected that Cas never once closed his eyes. He kept strumming his fingers against his thigh, or bouncing his heel on the floor. More than once, Dean had rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder, reassuring him in the only way he could think of.

The plane finally landed in what seemed like years to Dean.

Castiel was very quiet.

They stood facing a house of upper-middle class status, towering but not extravagant.

Castiel was holding his breath.

Dean looked over to him questioningly, and Cas stared back, his expression seemingly blank at first, but then Dean recognized a fear in his eyes, the kind of fear that has almost been forgotten. Cas raised his knuckles and they collided with the door in four steady beats. A woman who appeared to be in her early thirties opened the door, and Dean’s immediate thought was that she was beautiful in the way that models are. Her hair was a bright red, thin but healthy, and was tied back in a neat ponytail. Small wisps flew out and framed her face, looking more intentional than messy. Her eyes were a crisp blue just as Castiel’s were, and her pale skin seemed to bring them out even more. She was staring at Castiel, and Castiel was staring at her, and Dean wondered if that was how they all communicated with each other. But then she was bringing Cas into a hug. It was a detached sort of hug, one that didn’t seem to hold any warmth or comfort. Or maybe it was out of practice.

“I am so glad you could make it, Castiel. We have missed you,” the woman said as she pulled back from the embrace.

“And I, you.” She smiled at that, clearly pleased by his response. “Anna,” Cas said, gesturing to Dean half-heartedly. “This is Dean. Dean, this is my sister, Anna.” Dean nodded and smiled gently, holding out his hand to shake Anna’s. She arched an eyebrow warily at Castiel.

“He is my housemate. I believe I have told you about him.”

“I’m not sure you have.”

“Yes, well,” Cas said, obviously done with the subject. “Are you going to let us come in or not?” Dean almost winced at the bitterness in the voice, even though it was not directed towards him. Anna seemed unaffected by his tone. Or, perhaps, used to it.

She led the two men inside the home—no, house was a better word. A home would feel like a home, and this did not feel as much. It was lacking any familiarity, any family pictures upon the walls, any evidence that a family had ever lived there. Dean remembered his old home, from before his parents had died. Its walls held the heights and ages of him and Sammy on the panels, it held pictures of past picnics, birthdays, framed certificates of (mostly Sam’s) achievements in school. Walking through the halls, Dean had a hard time imagining Cas and his siblings as children. Did they ever play tag in this house? Running barefoot on the wood floor, almost breaking the flower vase?

“Gabriel and Michael are in the dining room if you would like to see them,” Anna said, looking over her shoulder. “Or, mother is in Kevin’s room.” Castiel replied immediately that he wanted to see his mother and Kevin. Cas had never mentioned anyone named “Kevin” but he seemed pretty intent on seeing him.

Dean followed Castiel upstairs, but stopped when they arrived at a closed door, which Dean figured was Kevin’s room. Cas’ hand was on the doorknob, and when he saw that Dean held back, he grabbed his wrist with his free hand and pulled him closer. Cas opened the door, and the sight that was before them made Dean inhale sharply.

There were two beds, separated by only a couple of feet. On one of them was Cas’ mother, a small, frail woman, with hair that was graying and thinning, surrounding a face that was caving in on itself. Her body looked as though it was doing the same thing under the layers of thick blankets. The skin on her face and arms was worn and tired. Her eyes were blue just as were her children’s, but they were faded and lacked the spark of youth that Castiel and Anna possessed.

On the adjacent bed, an Asian boy who was no older than seventeen lay. His left cheekbone was covered in a fully developed bruise and his body, also, seemed so fragile, weak, and unhealthily thin. Castiel was shaking, taking careful steps toward the beds. He knelt in between the two and his mother smiled sadly at him and then glanced to Kevin, who was sleeping. Cas looked to the boy also, and a pained sob ripped from his throat, shattering the silence.

***

2 hours after Dean had left Castiel with his mother and Kevin to bring their bags into the guest room, he sat on a couch with him, looking around at his surroundings nervously as Cas stared into space. Nervous for what, he wasn’t exactly sure. He was still clueless as to what had happened to Kevin, and too afraid to ask. He had been so quiet lately, he felt like he had forgotten how to talk properly. White-silver light filtered through the window and into the room, and Dean looked to see an almost full moon contrasted against a black sky. He couldn’t remember the sun setting.

Castiel stood and wordlessly exited the room. Dean closed his eyes and wondered bitterly why he had to get wrapped up in all of this, but he quickly pushed the thought away because it was Cas, and he couldn’t not be there for him.

***

Dean awoke to a large hand shaking his shoulder gently but firmly, and a deep voice saying his name. He kept his eyes closed, letting the sound of his name be repeated in Castiel’s soothing, gravelly voice. He finally opened them. Castiel was grinning down at him, and Dean thought of how nice it was to see him smile again.

“Come on, Dean,” he said, pulling at Dean’s short sleeve. “You don’t wanna sleep here. I know from experience how bad it jacks up your back.” Dean followed him up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. There were two twin beds on opposite sides of the room: quite small, but Dean could manage. A lamp between the beds shed a warm yellow-orange light, and under it was a record player that Dean hadn’t noticed earlier. He was instantly drawn to it as soon as he had seen it, and his hand hovered over it, unsure of whether or not to touch it, as though the contact would somehow spoil it.

“Go ahead,” Cas said, and Dean turned to glance at him. His smile was fading and tired, but it was there nonetheless.

“It’s really nice. Do you have any records?” Castiel opened the shutter doors of the closet, standing on his toes and reaching to the shelf at the top. He brought down a stack of about twenty or thirty records—it took him two trips—and each stack had a thin layer of dust coating the surface. He set them on one of the beds, and they both sat on a bed after Cas had put a record on.

The music poured out softly, the crescendo filling their ears, and Dean felt something blooming in his chest, the music feeding it until it bled from his fingertips. He imagined the sounds as ribbons, flowing and weaving around each other in the air, combing through Castiel’s hair and sliding over his cheeks.

And Castiel tilted his head and smiled. And the ribbons framed his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of anorexia

The morning came and Dean realized that he had slept soundly. Sometime in the night he had wondered to his bed and fallen asleep to the soft sounds of the record. He turned his head and saw that Cas was in his own bed, and Dean felt too far away from him, even if they were only about ten feet apart.  
These new feelings for Cas were, well, just that—new. Not that they had been simmering beneath his skin for a while now, waiting for a chance to surface themselves. But they were new in the sense that he finally allowed himself to acknowledge them. However unusual it struck him, Dean wasn’t about to freak out about this. Sure, he had never had any interest in guys before. But this wasn’t an attraction that was based on gender, or even considered it. It was just there, raw and pure. And he wanted to kiss Cas again. Really, really badly. Somehow he didn’t think it was quite the right time though. And he doubted Cas even wanted to.

Dean pondered these thoughts as he drove a crappy rental car, an electric-blue Honda, the fifty or so minutes it would take to Stanford to see Sammy, MapQuest directions in one hand. It was a relief to get out of the Novak house, and Dean hoped sincerely that he was not too insensitive in thinking so. But he knew that it was the wrong time to do the whole ‘meet the family’ thing when the house was filled with tense silence and tears that were stuck behind eyelids.  
Castiel still hadn’t told Dean what had happened to Kevin, and Dean didn’t ask. It wasn’t his business, and he could tell no one really wanted to talk about it.  
When Dean arrived at the campus, he called Sam and told him to get his ass to the parking lot, because there was no way he was about to get lost in this huge school with a bunch of pretentious douchebags in sunglasses. 

Dean was leaning against the Impala’s passenger door when Sam walked out of the school, his face instantly erupting in this huge dorky smile, which Dean couldn’t help but mirror. “Sammy what the hell are you wearing?” Dean said incredulously as he enveloped his brother (actually, it might be more correct to say that Sammy completely engulfed him—this kid is has like, giant-genes or something). 

“It’s called a sweater vest, Dean.”

“Yeah, well you look like a prestigious prick if you ask me.”

Sam laughed. “I thought we established that I already am?” Dean ruffled his hair affectionately, unable to wipe the ridiculous grin off his face. It was so nice to forget about everything else and just joke around with Sammy, like the old days.

They ordered lunch at some sub and sandwich restaurant on campus, a little nicer than what Dean was used to, but hey. He wasn’t exactly complaining, even when Sam offered to pay for him. 

“So working at Best Buy is going good, huh?” A small toddler ran past their table, his curly brown hair sticking in all directions, including over his eyes. A woman chased after him, a noise between a sigh and a frustrated groan escaping her mouth. 

Sam nodded while taking a huge bite out of his tuna sub. “Yeah, definitely. Oh! I forgot to tell you, I got promoted to manager!” Dean nearly did a spit-take in his excitement.

“Sammy, that’s great!” He said, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Wow, man. That’s really awesome. I’m happy for you.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks, Dean. So how’s the library going? Wow I never thought I’d be saying those words to you.” Dean faked a scowl.

“It’s all right. Not my dream job or whatever, but it’s something. And Cas visits during his lunch breaks, so that breaks up the monotony sometimes. So yeah, it’s not that bad.”

“Oh yeah, so when am I gonna meet this “Cas”? 

Dean shrugged. “He’s going through some stuff right now, I don’t know if it’s a real good idea yet.” Sam nodded again. If Dean was completely honest, he was a little afraid of Sam meeting Castiel. He wanted them both to approve of each other, if that made sense. He knew it was stupid for thinking they wouldn't like one another, but there was always a possibility, and he kind of wanted to push that event as far into the future as it could go.They fell into more conversations about their lives, how Sam was thinking of going on a road trip with some of his friends, how he was starting to go to the gym, and most importantly to Dean, how he was thinking of asking a girl out.

“Sam. Picture. Now.” Sam sighed, digging out his phone from his jacket pocket and searching through it. He held the screen over the table to Dean, who leaned forward to view it better. In the picture, Sam was standing outside of Best Buy, an arm linked around the shoulders of what Dean presumed to be the most carefree and beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her blonde ringlets fell over her collarbone and kept going—damn, this girl had some long hair—and she was wearing a long, tie-dyed dress. She looked kind of…hippie-ish, if Dean was perfectly honest, but the look just seemed to fit her, and he couldn’t imagine her in anything else. 

He whistled. “Well Goddamn, Sammy. Don’t ya think she’s a little out of your league there?” Sam threw him his best bitch-face. “Shut up, Dean.” Dean told his brother more about the library—how there was this hot chick named Ruby who literally hated him for no apparent reason, how he’d never actually seen his boss, but he heard that he was both the hottest man alive and a dick. He told him about how he and Cas switch off making each other dinner every other day, and that they watch at least three movies a week, and that Castiel was probably Dean’s only friend, because the only other people he sees are at the library and they kind of all suck.

“So what about Castiel’s friends?” Sam inquires. “You could be friends with them, right?” Dean blinks. He’s never seen Cas hang out with anyone else. Doubly, he’s never talked about any of his friends. Just kids from his classes. He shrugs in reply, stumped as to what he should say. Metallica blasts out in the restaurant, and Dean looks down at his phone. Huh, speak of the devil.

“It’s Cas,” he said to Sam as he showed him his phone, who raised his eyebrow. Suspiciously. Dean decided he did not like that look as he answered the call.

“Hey.”

Castiel’s voice seems deeper and more ragged than usual. “Hello, Dean.” There’s a pause, where neither of them said anything.

“Uh, Cas? You need something, buddy?” Goddammit, Dean thought angrily to himself. “Buddy”? Really? Way to not say the most platonic thing ever.

“Oh, yes,” Cas said. “Where are you?”

“I told you before I left. I’m visiting Sammy.” Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“No, I mean, where exactly?”

“A sandwich shop on campus. Is everything okay?”

Dean hears Castiel take a deep breath on the other line. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just wondering…well, if it isn’t too much—I mean, I know this you wanted to spend time with Sam and everything—no, yeah, I’ll just go somewhere else, I can—“

“Cas,” Dean interrupted him before the poor guy had a seizure or something. “Calm down. You can come, all right? I want you to meet Sam anyways.”

Cas hesitated, but finally relented. “Thank you, Dean. I just…I have to get out of here, you know?” Dean nodded, but too late he realized Cas can’t see him do so. “See you soon, Cas,” he said instead. He hung up the phone and talked with Sam more while waiting for Castiel to arrive. Dean tried listening to his brother talk about his philosophy class, he really did, but he couldn’t help his mind from worrying about Castiel, wondering when he was going to get there, hoping he gets along with Sam. He knew these kinds of thoughts were going to get him in trouble, one way or another. He knew that he should stay away from any potential relationships, because he can’t let go of the past and Sam just kept staring at him, like he wanted to say something, but was scared to. It’s like how when they’re talking on the phone sometimes, and Sam pauses, and Dean is afraid that he’s going to initiate some heartfelt conversation that is really hard to deal with at ten o’clock in the morning. 

Dean was finally woken out of his thoughts when he felt a hand flick his shoulder, and he looked to Sam, who was glancing towards Cas.

“Oh, hey Cas,” Dean said, rubbing a hand down his face as if to rid himself of his thoughts.

Castiel nodded toward him. “Dean. And I assume you are Sammy?”

“Sam is fine,” Sam said, smiling, as he extended his hand to shake Castiel’s. It turned out that Sam and Cas hit it off instantly, talking about Sam’s classes and Cas’ teaching. Castiel even gave Sam a few pieces of advice for studying, though Dean couldn’t see how Sam needed them. That kid is never not studying. Castiel only ordered a beer, because Sam and Dean had already finished their sandwiches and were finishing up their own beers. Mostly Castiel and Sam talked to each other, and Dean told himself that it was because they had more in common, not because he was boring. Because he was the funnest—yes, funnest—goddamn person in the restaurant. Sammy kept giving Dean those annoying glances. They were almost…smug, like he knew something Dean didn’t, and Dean had started making exaggerated faces back at him. That earned a slightly confused look from Cas. 

Eventually, Sam had to go to an evening class, and they exchanged goodbyes and nice-to-meet-you’s and call-me-more-often-you-asshole’s.  
Cas and Dean drove back to the Novak house in their separate cars—Cas was using Anna’s, Dean still in the rental—and Dean hoped Cas was still in a good mood when they got back. He had been laughing, with Sam, laughing and talking and not worrying about his family. It was really nice to see him like that, and it made some tension in Dean’s shoulders subside knowing that Sam and Castiel had gotten along so well. 

***

It was probably ten minutes in to the Novak family dinner when Dean started to wonder why exactly he had come on this trip. The table was dark and long, with a cream-colored tablecloth placed evenly atop of it. They were eating lasagna. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Dean thought it somewhat out of place and weird that they were eating lasagna. He associated lasagna with his mom and dad and Sammy, and it was strange that a family that is so different from his would eat the same things. He knew it was a ridiculous thought, and thus pushed it away. It brought up too many memories anyways. 

Gabriel and Michael were in a heated discussion about the new renovations occurring on the police station—Gabriel stating that it was a waste of money, and Michael—who happened to be a detective working for the same department—claimed that it was a necessary development. Dean didn’t see Michael’s point at all; he didn’t seem to have a very good argument, but he wasn’t about to interrupt. Castel’s mother, Naomi, was speaking with Anna in woman code. Or, it seemed that way to Dean. Most of their communication was in the form of body language: eye rolls, discreet glances, nudging. Some words were exchanged, but Dean couldn’t make them out, and didn’t suppose anyone else could, either. Not that anyone else was actually paying attention. Castiel, who was next to Dean, was whispering quietly to Kevin, who was sitting on the other side of Cas (the table was frickin’ big), and he looked like he was on the verge of tears, from sadness or exasperation or anger, Dean couldn’t tell. So, yeah, Dean was feeling a little like a seventh wheel (is that even a thing?), but then Castiel would turn around in his seat every once in a while, smiling softly at Dean and touch his elbow. It was just a simply little gesture, but it made Dean forget about any doubts he had. 

After dinner, everyone went off to their separate portions of the house (or, it seemed that way), and Cas led Dean up to their room. Once Dean shut the door behind him, Castiel turned around and smiled.  
“You all right?” 

Dean smiled back. “Yeah, I’m good. You?” Castiel nodded. Dean wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him so bad, probably more than he had ever wanted to kiss someone (well, maybe except for Megan Fox in Transformers 2 because hot damn), and it was unreasonable, because Castiel was his best friend and Dean was allegedly straight and if something went wrong Dean could potentially lose both Cas and his house. But when Dean had kissed Castiel it was too chaste, too brief, and he craved more. However, Dean decided in that moment that he would wait for Castiel to make the next move—it would only be fair for both of them, since Dean had made the first one. They wordlessly climbed into their separate beds, and when Castiel turned his lamp light off Dean tried not to think of how easy it would be to slip into Cas’ bed and kiss him in the dark.

***

Castiel’s family adopted Kevin at three years-old, a happy addition to their already too emotionally rigid family. Cas said Kevin was always everybody’s favorite. He said it without any resentment, only sad fondness.

Kevin was suffering from anorexia. It had started in his freshman year of high school, when he joined the wrestling team. Dean knew girls weren’t the only ones to have anorexia, but it still caught him by surprise. Which, in turn, made him instantly feel ignorant and stereotypical. Apparently Kevin was the kind of person to throw himself into whatever he did, and he put everything he could into the team. He wanted to be the best. Over the years he ate less and less, with the excuse of the team, and no one thought anything of it. He was careful, too careful. Careful not to let anyone realize what he was doing to himself. It was so gradual that no one noticed the reality until he fainted during a match his junior year. They had rushed him to a hospital, and they stuck an IV in him, and Kevin convinced them he didn’t need to go into rehab. And they listened. Gabriel had called Cas after realizing Kevin had gotten bad again. Gabriel had caught him lying naked, curled up on his side on the bathroom floor the night before. Bruises covering his body from the wrestling matches that his body was too weak to endure. Castiel had told all of this to Dean the night before. Dean hadn’t said anything back, only because he had heard his deep, even breathing, signifying he had fallen asleep. 

Over the course of the week, Dean tried his best to stay out of the way when it was necessary, but be there as a sort of comfort company for Cas when he needed it. The Novaks evaded all moments of potential heartfelt family talks outside of Kevin and Naomi’s (Castiel’s mother) room. And even then, the only words of encouragement and love were for Kevin and his mother. Dean also cooked dinner for the family once—he had wanted to help more, but something told him that the Novak family didn’t especially like to be helped, and even less so, pitied. By the end of the week, Castiel seemed convinced that his presence wasn’t helping, even though Dean told him multiple times that he was the only one who could make Kevin laugh. Dean guessed that Castiel figured he had been there long enough, anyhow, and they got on the plane that Friday night. 

There was a point on the plane where Dean forgot he was supposed to be overly conscientious of Castiel’s feelings, and he made a terrible joke, and Castiel had just looked at him. It was a look that lasted long enough for Dean to realize and go into a small period of shock, but then Cas laughed, shaking his head, probably more at Dean than his actual joke. Dean had allowed himself to chuckle back, but mostly watched his friend, glad that he was able to laugh still. For a while there it seemed like he had forgotten.


	6. Chapter 6

When they get back home, the sky is bright with morning light, soft grays and pinks and blues. It’s weird walking through the door—it’s only been a week but somehow it feels longer. Dean walked through the hallway to get the living room, reminding him faintly of that first day, except he led Cas instead of the other way around. But it was also different because on the once-plain hallway wall there was a message written in orange marker, reading “Hello Dean.” The writing was sloppy and hardly eligible, because Castiel had written it one night when he and Dean had come home drunk. Dean had tried to stop him, which earned him an attractive orange line drawn across his face. In the morning, Dean had taken the same marker and wrote “Hey, Cas” on the opposite wall, thinking he was hilarious.

Castiel dropped on the couch, stretching his limbs out and yawning loudly.

Dean walked into the kitchen, still looking around the house in a sort of daze. There were three pictures held by magnets on the fridge, each from different days. One was of Castiel, smiling brightly, his arms thrown in the air. Dean was following his body with the camera, so the background was blurred, the colors and images melted into each other. Another was of Dean crouching by the couch, smiling and pointing at a very much asleep and drooling Cas. The last one Castiel had taken. Dean was sitting in a chair at the table, and Cas’ foot was resting on his shoulder, making Dean’s face scrunch up in disgust, his head tilting away.

He laughed at that one and then caught himself, glancing over to Cas, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He smiled vaguely in reply. He took the pictures from the fridge, lifting the magnets and placing them back carefully, as to not let them fall. He brought the photos to Cas, sitting on the couch next to him. He stuck them out, chancing a glance at his friend’s face. A small smile formed on his face when he saw them, taking them from Dean’s hand. They look at them together, their thoughts drifting to the days those pictures were taken, the memories, the memories from other days, of all the days they’ve been living with each other.

Dean was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice how Castiel had laid the pictures on the coffee table in front of them, and turned to face Dean. He almost didn’t notice Castiel’s fingers trailing up his arm, lightly, too light. Cas brought his fingers to Dean’s jaw, turning his face to him. Dean delayed it for as long as possible, and when finally looked into Cas’ eyes, he saw hope and apprehension and pleading, pleading for Dean to not push him away. And Dean didn’t. He turned his body completely, until his right knee was touching Castiel’s left. Cas’ fingers were still on Dean’s face and he moved them down, down his neck and over his Adam’s apple, sending little sparks of electricity into Dean’s skin and he felt like a teenager again, on his first date with his crush, where everything was amazing and a little scary and he had no idea what to do.

Castiel leaned forward and Dean’s heart stuttered, his mouth involuntarily falling open just slightly. The small space of air in between their faces was charged with energy so thick they could almost see it, but it was easy to break, and Castiel did. Both men’s eyes his lips touched Dean’s so very gently, almost not touching, and then his tongue darted forward to taste Dean’s lips. It was the smallest of touches, but it made Dean’s breathing become labored, and the surged forward, practically diving into Castiel’s body. They fell back into the couch, facing each other on their sides. They licked into each others mouths, exploring, tasting everything. Dean licked along the roof of Castiel’s mouth which made him moan, the noise muffled in between their lips.

Heat was continuously pooling in Dean’s lower stomach, and it wasn’t until Cas’ knee forced it’s way between his legs that he realized he had become hard. It was embarrassing how fast that had happened, goddamn. Also embarrassing was when Dean rutted against Cas’ knee, searching for friction. Cas pressed them together so they were flush from chest to thigh. It was a little awkward to stay in that position, but it still felt amazing. Dean could feel the outline of Cas’ cock against his own, and his hips jerked again, wanting to feel more.

Castiel broke away from the kiss with a “Dean, wait.” Dean’s whole body froze, his eyes still squeezed shut, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for Cas to say he wanted nothing to do with him, that he didn’t want to be some “experiment”, that he would never be with Dean.

“Bed. Bed, now, Dean,” was what came out instead. His eyes snapped open and he nodded rapidly, scrambling off the couch and helping Cas up, and then they were attached at the mouth again, hands roaming bodies, pressing each other together, tripping over feet to get to the bedroom. Then they stumbled, holding onto each other tightly for dear life as they fell right on the stairs. God fucking dammit. Dean groaned, but Castiel laughed, and Dean pulled himself and Cas up and they climbed the stairs, compromising their make-out session but making up for it by grabbing the other’s asses.

They finally made it to Cas’ room, which was closest. They fell in after the door opened, and the thought that he had never seen Cas’ room flitted across Dean’s mind, but he made a note to check it out later because he had other things he wanted to get to first.

Castiel pushed Dean until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he fell back, and he let him because Castiel has done this before, Castiel knew what he was doing. Dean did not. Dean knew about girls. He knew where they liked to be touched and how to kiss them and how soft he needed to be. He knew where to put everything and—okay, he’s not stupid. He knew how two guys have sex. But it’s different than knowing what to do when you’re in that particular situation.

Shut up, it is.

So he let Cas drag him up the bed, let him kiss sloppily down his face and neck. He lifted himself up when Cas pulled his shirt over his head, and then went back to kissing, going down his throat and biting his collarbone. He groaned at the unexpected fucking _teeth_ , and pushed Cas roughly back so he could take his shirt off, too. He grabbed Cas’ face and brought it back to his own, kissing the life out of him. Their lips were swollen and sensitive and everything felt awesome, but he knew it could feel so much better.

Castiel planted both knees on either side of Dean’s hips, straddling him. He pulled back slightly, and when he leaned in, he simultaneously licked the corner of Dean’s mouth and ground his dick down _hard_ on Dean’s. Dean’s hips bucked; he felt like he was going absolutely crazy. He didn’t know how Cas wasn’t even shaking.

They went back to kissing, this unexplainably amazing thing that Dean kept wondering how they hadn’t done before. He just wanted to keep doing this, kissing Cas, forever. Cas ground down again, and it was like he was dancing; Dean was still surprised at how absolutely beautiful he looked doing this—doing anything, really, but right now he looked and felt so _graceful_ , like he was born to do this.

Dean reached around and slipped his hand in the back of Cas’ jeans, grabbing at handful of his ass. It kind of hurt the skin on his hands, because his jeans were unnecessarily fucking tight, so Dean brought his other hand up to try and taking his pants off completely. He wasn’t very successful, but thankfully Cas stopped licking Dean’s mouth (this guy really likes to use his tongue) to help him. They then went to Dean’s pants, and soon they were grinding to each other with only their boxers separating their now completely hard cocks.

Dean knew he was making the most embarrassing noises ever but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he just wanted _more_. He slid his length along Castiel’s slowly but with a hard pressure, eliciting a long moan from the other man. His arms had finally started to tremble where they bracketed Dean’s head, and Dean did a mental fist pump because _he did that to Cas._

Cas turned his chin to kiss Dean’s cheek, and then he moved down to press his lips gently to the middle of his chest. His tongue peeked out, grazing skin and Dean shivered. Cas mapped Dean’s chest with his mouth, running over every inch of skin he could find. He sucked a nipple thoroughly before moving to the other, giving them both about a minute or two of attention. Dean was practically squirming with the sensations, his dick straining against his underwear.

Cas dipped down to Dean’s stomach, nuzzling his belly button. It was strange, and oddly intimate. Dean’s hands found themselves at the back of Cas’ head, threading into his hair. They weren’t exactly pushing or pulling, just holding him.

Cas pulled Dean’s boxers down, and then simply looked at his cock. Stared, actually. He leaned down, his lips parting, and Dean’s breath caught in his throat. This was really fucking happening. Cas was close enough that his breath was warming Dean’s cock, making it twitch. But then in one swift motion he was kissing Dean’s mouth again, lying on top of him.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean laughed into his mouth. Castiel nudged Dean up until he was sitting with his back against the headboard. He climbed onto his lap after shrugging his own boxers off, once again straddling his legs. Their cocks were now flesh to flesh, and it felt amazing. Dean couldn’t stop bucking his hips up to meet Cas’, but then Cas’ cock was gone, and his face was resting in Dean’s neck. He was sat confused for a couple seconds, but then saw that Cas had grabbed a little bottle from the drawer of his nightstand, put some in his hand, and then reached behind his own body, his hand dipping in between the crease of his ass.

Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. If he was going to do this, he needed to get himself together first. He grabbed the lube from the table where Cas had put it, struggled with opening it at the awkward angle, and put a generous amount on his fingers. He took a couple more breaths before reaching hand between their two bodies, past Cas’ cock and balls. His hand hesitated a moment before pulling Cas’ finger out and replacing it with one of his own. Dean gasped at the feeling of Cas’ heat around him. Cas kissed his neck reassuringly, and whispered things that Dean couldn’t exactly make out but they comforted him anyways. He moved his finger in farther and pulled it out almost all the way. He circled and rubbed the soft, tight walls, opening Cas up. He soon adds another finger, repeating the motions, and then he is three fingers deep and Cas is writhing on top of him, whining incoherently.

“Dean,” Cas mumbled into Dean’s neck. His voice was low and even more gravely than usual, and the sound went right to Dean’s neglected cock, making it twitch. “Okay, okay, stop now,” Cas said, his voice shaking, like he’s trying to rush to do something, desperate. Dean pulled his fingers out of Cas. He pushed himself up, one hand on the headboard next to Dean’s head and the other one on Dean’s shoulder, holding himself up. He then trailed his fingers down Dean’s chest, almost scraping with his nails and Dean shivered for what felt like the millionth time.

Cas sat up, reached down, and took hold of Dean’s cock, holding it upright. He then lowered himself onto it, inching down slowly, and Dean took a moment to be incredibly thankful that Cas had made the decision to bottom from the top before his mind went blank and all he could think about was how good everything felt. Cas kept lowering himself until his ass was snug against Dean’s hips. He wiggled around a little, getting used to Dean’s size, and then lifted up and slammed back down. He put his hands on Dean’s chest for leverage and proceeded to slam down over and over again, and Dean knew he should be doing something but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate. Cas leaned forward so their chests were flush against each other, and the angle change made Dean groan, low and primal.

Dean started to thrust up into Cas, who shuddered and then sunk down to meet him halfway. It felt amazing, and everything was gone except Cas staring back at him, mouth slightly parted, pupils blown wide with lust, face flushed a healthy pink. Dean shifted, and he presumably hit Cas’ prostate, because he made the beautiful noise, long and loud, and it seemed to vibrate through Dean’s whole body and especially dick. He quickened the pace then, and their bodies were making obscene smacking noises and it was awesome. Dean felt his hips starting to stutter erratically, and it was a miracle that he remembered he wasn’t wearing a condom, so he pulled out, resulting in a whine from Castiel above him. But he took both their cocks in hand, slippery from the lube on Dean and precome on Cas’, and he pulled up, pushed down, faster and faster until they were both panting in each other’s mouths, so close but not actually kissing. Cas’ moans were getting higher and higher as he approached his climax, and Dean bit his lip so he could hear him better.

Cas came first, spurting hot liquid all over Dean’s hand and chest and damn, it was a lot. Cas’ hand joined Dean’s, which was still wrapped around both of their lengths, and he weaved their fingers together. Dean came when Cas kissed him, his tongue trailing lazily over his lips and teeth and tongue.

Dean wiped their come off on the bed sheet as Cas dropped on the other side of him. They lay shoulder to shoulder for a while, staring up at the ceiling and panting. Dean smiled, turning and sliding an arm over Castiel’s torso, tugging him closer. Cas hummed and Dean’s smile grew impossibly bigger, and he didn’t think he would ever stop smiling. From the point of Sam’s departure to Stanford—hell, it might’ve even started when their parents died—Dean hasn’t felt any joy. Sure, he’s had plenty moments of happiness, but they were instantaneous, fleeting; they were gone faster than he could get used to them. But as he laid surrounded by the heat of Cas’ body, the silky soft slide of the sheets, the small breeze coming in through the cracked window, Dean felt pure joy. The kind that won’t go away, even when he’s upset. The kind that resides inside a person, filling up the gaps in their body, making them whole.

The feeling was a reassurance, stronger than hope, that Cas wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t going to leave to some fancy school. He was staying in this hardly adequate house with Dean, he was visiting him at the library on his lunch breaks, he was tasting Dean’s foods and smiling that toothy smile. Dean knew that moving into Cas’ house was one of the best decisions he’s ever made. He found his best friend, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the person that understands him almost as much as Sammy.

Dean knew that sex does not equal a relationship. But he also knew that he and Cas have always been together, and the sex will probably be the only thing that changes in their relationship. That is, having a fuckton more of it. And the kisses, definitely the kisses. And okay, even the hand holding. And cuddling, but Dean will never admit it to Sammy, even if it kills him.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end. First of all, I wanted to thank everyone who gave kudos and commented, it all made me really happy :) Second of all, I wanted to apologize. This is definitely not how I wanted this story to end, but I was losing interest in it, so I decided to end it here instead of dragging it out and probably making it a lot worse. I had expected it to be a lot longer and a lot more stuff to happen (a bunch of crazy conflicts and angst) however it wasn't working the way I wanted it to, so I had to completely diverge from those ideas. I hope it was still enjoyable, and I promise my next multichapter fics will definitely be planned ahead of time so they run way smoother!


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